He stopped abruptly. Just as he had arrived at the mouth of the drain, and Jack felt certain he must be discovered, a loud shout was raised from the further end of the field that the fugitive was caught. Presently, however, a sudden movement occurred, and disclosed his features, which were those of a young man of nearly his own age. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. "Have you got Jonathan out of the way?" he asked, in an eager whisper. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. She fell into another slumber, one which was more like a blackout.
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